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*This is written just as I wake up I’m not losing my mind or drugged up …but that’s what they all say. 3/30/03: Organza orgasma. Feeling like knuckle bait on an afterglow mallet ma. Cornball conifer questionnaire all but where’s good. Wanna know? Let your lingers do the balking, you don’t need to know. Walking stalk now way up outta the ground. Shocks, springs, rotor and rhododendrons are here somewhere too. Sun. No sun. That M&M rhyme thing. He’d rhyme window with doe if the funny stray had lost his way, gimma appladay for a dogcatcher with a backscratcher, lying down on a stretcher. Leg on a peg, etc. Saran wrap. 2/01/03:
Concealed Pieces I didn’t know about Matronly Dome Reveals They’re gonna leave before I get my 3 bottles of Champagne Peaceful There goes my bus Concentrated for your ease and benefit Carcelated into a snogathon Ambivalent as a mousetrap Corporate and corporal if ain’t subject Toucan and shoebound, partial and Zagnut Breadboxed into commission, submitted to bus stop Instability, convenience when opened upside down Clanger and slaphappy if not plain hotbedded Arterial grasses bound for Georgia had seeded belatedly Sorry for the kinked enclosure; All trains will now be Bing Bound. Cronyism in the king’s mansion found only to be favoritism on Friday’s behalf Can we get down to it? Put it in the box, in the drawer. Lost High Flunk Kid Tear Up Mercury Spilt Tiled Out Write It Down Congruent See Saw gotta lotta Funk in this Soul Bowl 12/12/02: Harbor pot flop strock. Lower back plane stretched out forever, man. Hopper, man, like 36 times, man. Yes, it’s The Trip. Patterns of pots and pans made me clean the house 27 times and still never swept under the carpet, man. Pax, nepenthe, they were all a bunch of slobs. Gobs. Moms. Lawms. Grass. Mowed and unbowed, guitars and jars never played, never sheet rocked and hardly loved. Crammed, jammed but never learned. Thought, hot, and never done. Left on the stove, gave away and sought for naught. Got a lot but scant a rant worth taking down beyond a scheme pipe dream lost in the bucket like a mother, fuck it. 12/08/02: Ground. Like the Scrabble board of time, like a twenty-pointer word. Earthy like a hippy, full of chirpin’ like that bird. It’ll carry us around, but no sound within the ground. Just the hauling of the railroad, Canadien or Santa Fe, brought the natives sweets to eat, pigs to gut, news to read, and trinkets to swing at. John Wayne told me all I needed to do was go check out a Kentucky winter sunrise, a New Jersey turnpike on Friday, or catch a monsoon in Tucson. “America? Why sure, partner, I love her. Have you ever walked around Minneapolis during a heat wave, or driven through a blinding Great Lakes blizzard? “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” That guy never did yoga, the really painful kind. Or lost his wallet. Twink twink said the leaf, you’re wrong cv. Cast your money into the sea, just be, and if you’re gonna be, cv, be happy. Do what you love and the yoga will come- everyone over forty’s doing it. 11/22/02: Opening up a view into the green path, there’s nothing there, but I know it’s bigger than I thought. OK, into dreamland. I was offered a bunch of speed at the picnic party, so I sat playing with it at my wooden table. Someone said it had lots of dextrose, or Dexron IIâ in it, so I figured it might be better to eat it, than to snort it. Either way, I didn’t, ‘cause I got a phone call from Jakob Dylan. We were talking about what to do tonight. I figured he was in L.A., and I assumed he (like everyone else these days) didn’t expect me to be in Seattle. While we talked, I flipped through some LP covers. They were all different variations on the same Bob Dylan record covers. He had either a coat or a sweater on in each, pulled over his head. The room got darker, and then I couldn’t even see the Bobber’s head, just the outline of the collars, as I looked at them. Meanwhile, I’m still listening to Jakob talking about some possible party, and it occurs to me that I should probably take that quote out of my bio about my songs kicking his ass, a silly metaphor anyway. It’s like saying the leaves in my backyard are way bigger and browner than his. Whatever. So, by now, I realize, in the darkness, that the record covers are really sweaters on hangers, I can feel the wool. I didn’t know Bob Dylan wore so many cardigans. (?) I like Bob Dylan’s music, but I don’t consider myself a Dylan fan, because I get off the bus at about 1968- John Wesley Harding. So, I got off the phone, left that ramekin of drugs on the picnic table, flipped a switch, and…disappeared. 11/20/02: Strawk. Vote for Strock. Kiss him where the sun don’t shine, which woudn’t be HERE, finally. Blue shine through, the wreckage of these battered leafy trees is still, and if not so alive, quite dead. You got moss? I got moss, go look, lichens and little tweeters of green fuzzies that are bigger than your arm, under a microscope. Get one of them microchips. Motorvation is key. The sound of cars is downright transportational. Those lucky fuckers! Where are they going today? Islands? Freeways? Canadia? Wanna tiki torch for to strap on your antenna? Got one here. Without gravity, imagine those bees, they’d bee zipping all over the place. Spiders would be weblessly furious. Such a bad way of living. Birds won’t be singing. Flowers won’t grow. Live (live your life!) for life…but let live everybody. Time has told me Time won’t let me Time is passing Any time at all Once was a time I thought No time like the right time Does anybody really know what time it is? 11/01/02: Oh, who wants that. Thick spaghetti sauce isn’t popular anymore, is it? Meat, ah, we took that for granted. That just added the dark color. More dark, you need more meat, sweetie. Yes, I want a dance. Cast a shadow in that direction. Yes, now I’m awake. A boost in the brain told me so. I’m like a bowl of water. Some dust on the surface, bits of ripples once in a while, the rest of the time in need of change. Looks good in the afternoon with sun on it. I am a bowl of water. Happy to be that way… Is my bowl too wide? Glass (breakable), or plastic (cheap and easily stained)? Small (everyone’s fear), or too big (oh dear). I decide that my bowl is glass with a big rim. A little top-heavy, and a little too full. You wanna come break me? I dare you. *These are not, nor ever were, dreams. I’m awake, you know. 10/25/02: That’s just smashing, my love. Dog turner on the burner bus buzzer mean muzzler. It’s so fucking cold I thought I was smart in conserving energy, now the planet’s gone and stopped! Try starting that thing at five in the morning at zero Kelvin. “Got any cables?” In the booth they listened to the thing, while I tuned in on earplugs. Sounded like a lot of breathing and shuffling around, some buz bussing rumble and the whine of a thousand rock shows and the evening’s beer ring. 10/19/02: pleasant conventry, alias train catch red hell for a 6pm slice date. casbah hijacker causes tyre sale - peps boys pissed in vertical trade off study shows tv to be useful in hospitals only, 66 channels is plenty when terminally ill saturday a.m. metals are more likely to be attached to cars in morning take a meal with raisins, the pack is light misanthropically cannibalistic shermanites are eating my nasturtiums narrate this Pleasant Conventry, alias train catch red hell for a 6pm slice date. Top priority. Casbah Hijacker Causes Tyre Sale. Kono, track down every gas station, automotive supply house, military outpost, anyone who might have sold that tire. Go! Pep Boys Pissed vertical trade leaves 100+ year old company in general doubt of future Survey Says: TV Useful In Hospitals Only, 66 channels is plenty when terminally ill A deeper look: Saturday a.m. Metals more likely to be attached to cars in morning take a meal with raisins, pack light. “misanthropically cannibalistic shermanites are eating my nasturtiums” narrate this! 10/18/02: Amnesiac cab driver kept me up all night. I practically had to drive it myself. “Where’s the turn,” his mantra was. Every time I pick up a coke can there’s a buzzing sound, like UFO static, inside it. I set it down. The house is full of them. Paint jobs are sure nice. It’s so nice to, so great to, so rewarding to get all fresh, but really you’re only sealing in the demons. One day can be really great, but then the next, for instance, can be very different. Like you could turn into Elton John, or a lost possum and you’d have to start all over- new jobs, new mayor. The stars in the sky and spam would be the same, thank lawd. Picnic [more to come] Dust is funny stuff. They say it’s got a lot of skin in it, and that’s why it’s fluffy and clear. The dust in your attic is colloidal and opaque. Sharing a hot tub is like sharing a hard-boiled egg or a taco, much nicer when you got in first. Bark bark knobby. Backwards driving. Stone cold Walla scoundrel, Sarandon snowball with a bum floater. Queso wind knocker hail to the chief. Pepsi fortified souped to the cheek. Deal me a slice. Sappy Lamb Pappy gone unhappy asphalt grim store sale. Reason for the lesion is a manifold foxtrot. Got it by the luck of a misplaced sandbox bit. 10/17/02: The stalk is in the ground. I lie with my back to the sun, why did I not just let it be the ball it just is, ever-lovin’ nature boy? You may live in a shack by the sea, but I’m here in the friggin’ woods, and I’ve got ten kinds of critters lining up for free this, free that, and it’s busier than the DMV here. If I sit still for five minutes, the sasquatch will probably turn up and steal my pencil. Poison berry, take away my pain. When I recover, all penmanships will sail for the China, and cruise the Yangtze. A team of skunks, all paper-rich, are gonna start an Olympic curling team, based in the former Soviet Union, country undetermined. When you got purple, you’ve got lavender indeed. Games people play underwater is a flipped out deed. Scram for the hills, boys, this coffee’s gone to seed. Grab the wheel from me Ethel, my buddy Ray’s in dire need…of…a PRETZEL! Ooh, pretzel! Had one lately? Soft kind, hard ones, mustard or without. Yellow, salted, nothing that you should, buy them at the circus. Buy ‘em buy ‘em by the pound. Wax paper hat girl gimme two or three. Throw ‘em to the masses; I’ll have a fried corn dog. Close up on this ground. You couldn’t launch a space shuttle here. Maybe just a space needle only. Not a thousand ships. No, just a kayak or a rowboat with mismatched oars, which reminds me: Cecil wants to grow. He’s not big enough to run away. He has ideas in his young mind about love, life, and day jobs. Punch in and punch out, suicide machines and credit cards. By the time he gets old enough, it’s all OVER, man. We’s gots war, infidelity, indifference, skepticism, spam, notorious B.A.D.; he forgets how good his internet connection is, and how easy it is to find out who the co-star of ARK II was, or the secretary on The Bob Newhart Show- what’s her name. Cecil, you don’t need to know a thing, you just need to keep track of what questions you want to ask, boy! In the year 2525, if match.com can sort your jive, you may thrive… Is everything in general a mess, or is it just me? Or rather, is it in my head? It feels great. 10/16/02: “Captain, with limited resources, we can only go so far. We can overdub one guitar, a bass, and your sole vocal.” “No tambourine? That always helps on everything.” “You’ll just have to go without, unless we erase the bass or one of the overheads.” Thinking back, we should have wiped out the errant snare drum. Put a zing on it. Pink Floyd scrub dishes make tea film me stringy hair kickstand close friend kinky piddler in the middle of a washout washed-up car stuck in a flood. Where’d he gt that old thing? Found it? Traded in a card game? Piece of junk sat in the yard for 20 years. Saw him in this rain gear trying to make a car, this car, be a boat. Nearly fell out of the driver’s seat, so much Hollywood mud and Burbank downpour. Now, back home, plant a tomato garden. Add a raccoon to my list. I’ll take one, but if you have a whole brood, bring ‘em in. Give the little ones bibs before they get angel dust all over…little angels. Coons love gym shorts. Saw him eating a pair at 3am, concerned that the drawstring might eventually dangle out both ends, but this creature critter was easily distracted. Maybe he was a young female. They’re so bold. Planet of the raccoons, Cornelius and Josie (Rhoda? Martha?) could have great makeup. They would act out a raccoon remake of “Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?” here in the yard. Fearless varmints would come through the pet door and perform the kitchen and living room scenes, all while we slept. I’ll have to get the SPYCAMs installed with surround Dolby DTS BASF NTSC PCMCIA and AFTRA. And a freed POW on the Nagra 3. Films about films (films that feature a film being made in the plot, or general filmmaking going on in a scene) aren’t a whole lot more imaginative than tribute records. Kinda like those liner notes and album artwork that show the band in the studio. The worst is a picture of an amplifier mic’d up- come on BOREdo! 10/15/02: Bowling: Hand must fit in ball right. It’s all in the ball. Burning my little eyes out, the contrast is way too high. Gotta start getting up before the sun does. Boats are all back, can hear more noise and it’s…cars, believe it. When the snow starts the grass will not grow so much as it will be recovering from a rough time it had with those moles and voles, grotto possums, and robots beating the snot out of it all summer long. Earth, lovely earth. Where had you been? I want to be sane, always sane, never insane or Diane Zane, or gone totally gray zane. Clear. It’s all clear. The sun must have burned me a good one today. Thank you. My work here is done today. I want to live this guy’s life… 10/14/02: Chumps freaks geeks Disneyland figures making me cry, they’re so cute. Sunny and felt dusty black, eyes like paint jobs and feet like Toyotas. Someone fetch me a lemonade, keep in a cup. I’m gonna douse me one. Dried out wood is 9 years old. Red headed kid is 9 years old. Put the child to work straight away. I’m make a list, he will: 1. Paint and stain 2. Rake and collect 3. Mow and stow 4. Shovel and maintain 5. Pick up and more 6. Stay Quiet 7. Today’s drivers is defensive 8. Climb into a hammock 9. Mount speaker in window (Now, which channel, left or right, should he choose, as there’s only room for one) 10. Burn papers 11. Go sleep in pup tent for entire summer 45 feet from house 12. Swim 13. Blow out knee in hyperextension trick 14. Eat chocolate covered graham crackers 15. Cut own hair 16. Disappear into oneself if possible 17. Drive car safely 18. Move out of parents house with car 19. Keep driving on right side 20. Always remember This shouldn’t take too long. Once some time goes by, the subject will appreciate just about any sentimental notion. Will tend to cry when asked about it. Be patient, as this too shall pass. Researchers in Yosemite National Park today discovered that two bears are better than one. Poorson, a black female bear got a hand from Reeble, her companion, when they busted open a soft top Jeep to get at some pancake mix. Reeble did a nice thing, he found the Hide-A-Key then moved the seat forward so they could rummage comfortably. Those bears are smart, and this is proof. While it was a goddamn shame and a terrific mess for the camping couple (from greater L.A.), they kept the phone Poorson dropped inside the Jeep. It barely had any minutes left. Ha Ha! Today’s word: Hyper-synthesis 10/06/02: Condense the parading cow like soldier boys Buy them Cheaper Humvee toys Got me idees, wagon drags With bearded men men totin’ fags One little piggy went to the bathhouse Another stayed at home in his own First guy had a super duper geodesic dome The other just imagined rods & cones Hark! It’s dark The light is really bright. Took off the blinders, yikes So quiet. Where’s my chainsaw. Lawnmower, jackhammer. 10/05/02: Scratch Scratch goes the nuthatch. Where are you and your thousand pals? Buddies of the forest, ravers of the ravine. Dark secretive woods living killing critters, hunched up and keeping cozy. I think I’ll throw some laundry lint your way. Where’s the widow? Widow leans out her window. Holds on to the rail. Checks the mail. Nix, got not netflix today. Leave out a letter and it’s netfix and noflix today, her love has gone away. The bottle stands forlorn, symbol cymbal timbale tympani zumpano zamboni trombone stromboli Bora Bora Tony the Tiger Spanish toro of the dawn. How could they know what sorry means? How can I say I’m sorry when I’m just dust busted (orders from the D.A.) disgusted? I think I’m gonna schedule a conference call and tell them all, at once, to go to hell. And I’ll even leave the connection open so the strangers (to each other) can discuss amongst themselves. Oh, but I couldn’t do that, but it could go in my screenplay. Briar come arrange the briar patch. Uncle Remus is all tangled up in this broken Jazzy electric wheelchair, stuck out there, bottle of Puerto rum between his knees. He sez, “Do you like booze? I know I do!” Yeah, he’s out there. Way out there. I want a green line to appear just below my thoughts. “Take this train to ‘Story Road Studios.’” If there’s a guy there, he shall be Emperor of Imperial loin. And then you will find the fish. Take them to the birds, for they are for and before the birds. Don’t be afraid. Say it all. Speak your mind, say all that is in your head. [Yeah! Get me something here! Where’s the sunshine? Fix that thing! Say a big hello! You gotta jump! [ Leaf [deeper, freaker, no. [ok ok it’s gonna be a good day, ok. ]]] (hi) 10/04/02: LA-4, LA-4, Don’t come down on me no more. Pulling waves, crushing me, why don’t you let those sounds flap oh so free. Twinkie punky full of life Spunky funky old George Christ- why don’t you sing me a tune (on the bass) yeah. Blow me some spoon: I wanna know that you know, yeah, come show me your spoon. I had a friend she went away, some say she does it that way. How do we spell the name, Oh, N-E-K-E-O, N-O-K-I-A, M-A-N-E-O, oh Brillo got away, Oh! Just a tune to pass the time. Don’t show yours, I won’t show mine. D-I-N-G-O Show No N-G-O Don’t Crow EL-B-O and No One sees the show, No! --scratch that-- Pull up a chair, let’s talk about dancing. Joe Bonamo has a Phillips head and clawed feet. I got accused of disbelieving in meat, but I said, “I’ll eat anything.” Then they brought these sea critters, chopped up suction cup legs, half-a-head things with purple sidecar remnants of food memories. Past life half-life. OK, no meat. “Just a little bit of pork, won’t hurt a bit.” Ah, where is my head. Cat took it. Calico honey went and nabbed it. Nasty cat. Tiki torch is gonna make it inside for the winter. Blue conifer can’t wait to stay out there. Calico wants in. A whole branchful of Brown. “Those leaves ain’t dead, ma’am, they jes’ dried up for nature’s sake, they rise up like Jesus did. Right out of the compost heap. I’ve seen the spirits rise, it’s like steam, it’s so damned APPARENT. Worms don’t go to heaven- that’s why they stay behind…see? There they are.” Bearded drag queens look nightmarish. I just imagine, however, they probably make great sandwiches. And they’d do a bang-up job on your taxes, at their “straight jobs.” Oh, Donny, Roberta, Where is the love? Where is the love? Where is the love? Where is the love? 10/03/02: Outside the rain begins and it will never end. Boz no more only snores he will. Listen to the green. Flow no joe. Call the kid. I’m all alone, yes I’m all alone. Close the hinder fly by night. All will see monkey. Threes a crowd, no need to hire a maid. Once I post a pole place not n ice- there goes Johnny Angel again. Bad Man. OK, so I wanted to leave behind my mind. Got all self-conscious, whether or not to use the semicolon this year. Just means I’m biting more than I can chew. Get busy? Trying. Thought if I could find a peaceful place, I should take advantage of it. Like hitting the beach every moment during vacation, to get that tan value. Could get burned…or overfed. Why green? Why brown? Why flee a world-class town? The scenery is beautiful, just some birds flat headed tit poppers, blue jays, woodpeckers, a cat, a possum (!) and the squirrel who thinks no one is gonna find his seeds. Got news for you: we’ve got 4 bags of the stuff, don’t hoard. Instinct. The big flowers are dead. Johnny Angel. I don’t even know what that is, what THIS is. The woods. I grew up in the friggin’ woods. I’m back. There’s a ravine, it’s got ferns. The lawn in burned. It’s raining again. It’s Seattle, that’s what it does here. Lumberjack Zen masters. Coffee freaks. It’s the silicon valley, or rather, the Nashville of coffee- that’s it, the Nashville of Coffee. West Seattle I guess is the Louisville (or Cooperstown) of Coffee, and bowling. Pull tabs. Get further north of the equator, and the hats go on, the chairs get higher, the bars have more things scratched in them. Northern living brings out the obsessive compulsive disorders, you don’t see the separatists writing manifestos (like this one) in Equador or down in Waikiki. Well, maybe on Hawaii Five-O. I’m done. I’m awake. I’m too self-conscious. Go away. Don’t post me. I wanna be flexible like bamboo. Like a bendable straw. I don’t like straws, or milk. 10/02/02: Fill up the Ron with Junk, I’m funky with five times. Call me up, really, it’s good. Ring Ring. Who’s there? Fantasia. Lots of it. Best thing was when Johnny Angel socked Shelley Fabares in the kidneys, backstage, and then stole her Perrier, and that was before they even had Perrier. At least in the green bottle. I wanted also to thank the birds for eatin’ all my seed. Purple tit goose, flat pan easy hopper sideburn bird. Bird. Bird DidgitBIRD. We calculated 5 different slot machine algorithms. All echoed the same phrase- “You can’t beat this.” So I quit, started flippin’ channels. Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, Pinky Berkenstein, Cronkite Jackson, Irving R. Ravine and Hanna Barbara Walters all said, “Oprah go get it girl.” It’s nice the clear the head, the throat, the eyes the nose. Doctor said I might have the AIDS but he wouldn’t know the AIDS if it danced, walked, or biked with HIM. Comments are closed.
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